


Sweetly forgiven

by oddegg



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic, M/M, this isn't what poetry is meant to inspire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-02
Updated: 2011-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:18:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddegg/pseuds/oddegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 1stclass-kink meme prompt: sweet and domestic attempt at making breakfast for the kids turns into sex in the kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetly forgiven

**Author's Note:**

> I was wanting to ask for fic inspired by the William Carlos William's poem 'This is just to say'. Original prompter anon was kind enough to say they didn't mind if I added it in. :)

**This is just to say**

I have eaten  
the plums  
that were in  
the icebox

and which  
you were probably  
saving  
for breakfast

Forgive me  
they were delicious  
so sweet  
and so cold  
\- William Carlos Williams

 

It was a universal truth that, whether they were mutant or ordinary, growing children needed a decent breakfast. Charles felt very strongly about that.

It was also a truth that there was no way on Earth the teens in the mansion were going to get out of bed early enough to deal with fixing breakfast for themselves before their morning training began. So if they were going to have a healthy diet then Charles would have to make sure it was ready for them himself.

Erik, leaning against the table with his arms crossed, is uncertain exactly how _he_ came to be downstairs in the kitchen at 6am helping out but he isn’t ruling out mind control, no matter how vehemently Charles protests. He idly waves a hand and the spoons helpfully clatter themselves out of the drawer behind him and float through the air to land next to the bowls he’d just placed on the table. And while they do Erik watches Charles, busy on the other side of the kitchen.

As Charles opens the refrigerator and bends forward Erik hums softly to himself and puts his head to one side, contemplating the pull of jersey fabric over the soft swell of Charles’ arse. He supposes he can’t rule out evil sexual wiles either.

“I do not have evil sexual wiles, Erik.”

Charles sounds amused and slightly muffled, his head still stuck in the fridge as he searches for something. Erik lets the contentment he’s feeling seep into his own voice as he replies. “So you say, Charles. But would I have agreed to help you mother hen a group of children without them? I think not. And you said you would stop reading my mind.”

Charles looks back over his shoulder, eyes bright with humour. “I hardly think putting out cereal and milk constitutes being a ‘mother hen’. And you were broadcasting that one quite loudly, my friend; it doesn’t count as mind reading when you’re practically shouting it.”

Erik thinks very, very hard about some of the ideas the sight of Charles’ tight backside had given him, putting in as much realistic detail as he can, and grins broadly when Charles flushes red and hastily turns back to the fridge. “We are _not_ ” Charles says primly “doing that in the kitchen. The children could walk in.”

“Most of the ‘children’ are past voting age and none of them are going to be up for another couple of hours unless you force them out of bed.” Erik pushes himself off the table and moves up behind Charles. Bends down close over Charles’ back and murmurs close to his ear “Which is where we could be right now if you’d hurry up and finish. Does it really take you that long to find the milk?”

Erik can hear a little hitch in Charles’ breathing but his voice is level as he answers “I’m not searching for milk; I’m trying to find where the bowl of fruit I put in here yesterday has got to.”

“Ah. That would be the plums, yes?” Erik can feel Charles still; feel the sudden concentration of his attention. Charles straightens up slowly and, as Erik straightens with him but doesn’t move back to give him room, ends up plastered very closely to Erik’s front. He cranes his head round and asks suspiciously “And how do you know they were plums?”

Erik tries on a bright smile. He thinks he might be showing too many teeth. “Because I ate them all last night?”

“Erik!” Charles doesn’t quite slam the fridge door shut but it’s a close thing. He does, sadly, step away from Erik and say with a frown “I’m trying to get the kids to eat properly. Did you have to eat _all_ of them?”

Erik already misses the warmth from the body pressed to his so he moves quickly and blocks Charles up against the counter, traps him there with arms on both sides and leans down to nuzzle against Charles’ shoulder. He says, trying to sound sincere “I’m very sorry for depriving your babies of the opportunity to completely ignore the healthy fruit you put out for them, Charles. Please forgive me.”

He may have breezed past sincerity into sarcasm there, but he trails his tongue up Charles’ neck when he’s finished speaking and, judging by the gasp that gets him, Charles might excuse him anyway. Erik quickly decides to press his advantage while he has it and moves down to mouth lightly at Charles’ collar bone.

“I – _oh_ – I suppose I can let you off just this once, if you’re-” Erik has his hands inside Charles’ tracksuit top now and Charles breaks off with a moan as Erik pinches his nipples and scrapes teeth on the edge of his jaw at the same time. He’s flushed and panting now and he’s quite perfectly lovely and Erik can’t help smiling as he whispers “How about you _let_ me off and I _get_ you off, hmm?”

“ _Erik_ …” He cuts off the rest of Charles’ words by the simple ploy of kissing the hell out of him. _‘That was a **terrible** pun, Erik.’_

Erik pulls back and says reproachfully “Please don’t criticise my jokes in my head, Charles. It’s very rude.” He lays a line of kisses along Charles’ jawline, moves one of his hands round to push down the back of Charles’ jogging bottoms and stroke his arse. “I thought you English were meant to be polite.”

Charles is trying to push back into Erik’s hand and rub himself up against his front at the same time and he sounds distracted when he says “Well, you did eat all my plums. I think – _oh god, yes_ – I think I’m allowed to be testy just this once.”

“I did eat them all, you are right, Charles.” Erik smirks. “And they were quite delicious.” He suddenly grabs hold of Charles’ waist and hikes the other man up onto the counter; swallows his gasp eagerly and runs his hands over Charles’ chest with equal enthusiasm, pushing up the tracksuit top and bending to lay brief, sucking kisses along his breastbone as he adds “They. Were. So. Sweet.” He stands full height and pulls Charles down to him. Whispers into his mouth from millimetres away “So cold…”

Erik can’t speak now. His lips are too busy with kissing Charles, his tongue too busy exploring Charles’ mouth, licking the taste of him up and coaxing out more of those lovely noises Charles is making: far more sweet and delicious than any fruit could be. He can’t speak but when does that ever matter with a telepath? _‘I wanted to crush them. Bring them back up to your room where you were asleep and crush them and let the juice from them run all over you. I wanted to lick it off you, off your skin, oh dear god, Charles… Your skin, like that, you – ich will… ich muss…’_

Charles is squirming and gasping in his arms and he can’t even _think_ now, not coherently and not in English and Charles doesn’t speak enough German but Erik knows that the essence, the feelings of his thoughts get through so he thinks about last night and the small, yellow plums he had eaten standing in the moonlit kitchen; capturing juice as it spurted and ran down his chin, licking it off his fingers and imaging what it would taste like mixed with the taste of Charles’ skin: salt and sweet together, the cold juice of the plums warmed up by the heat of Charles’ body. Charles, who he’d left warm and curled up in their bed…

And Charles, above him here and now as Erik pushes his top over his head out of the way and chases phantom sweetness down his chest and over his stomach, makes a choked noise in his throat and says, thin and breathless “Christ… Erik, _please_ …” as Erik swirls his tongue in Charles’ navel and trails it down the thin ridge of hair on his belly.

Erik hooks his thumbs in the soft material of Charles’ jogging bottoms and pulls them down as much as he can. It’s not far, given that Charles is still sitting on the counter but it’s enough to let Charles cock spring free, hard and flushed a dark rose red and oh so very tempting. Erik’s mouth is already watering as he dips his head to lick the slick bead of pre-come off the head.

The groan Charles gives sounds too deep for someone of his size, and when he slides his hands into Erik’s hair Erik can feel his fingers shaking. His voice shakes too when he says in a low plea “Erik… Please. Suck me. Oh god, please, please suck me, Erik!”

How can Erik ignore such a heartfelt request? He opens his mouth and slowly takes Charles’ cock in; giving tiny little laps of his tongue on the underside as he goes down, until his lips are nearly down to the base, his nose gently tickled by the curls of hair at Charles’ groin. He hums a long note of satisfaction that makes Charles moan and pull on his hair, then takes a deep breath and forces himself down further so that the cock head is brushing the back of his throat, his air cut off and his mouth completely full. Saliva is pooling on his tongue and trickling past his lips and he swallows: desperate for more even than he has at the moment.

Charles gives more than a moan this time. It’s more a strangled scream and Erik pulls back, sucks in breath and plunges back down again and swallows over and over, lets his lips curl up and uses his teeth a little. The noises Charles is making are wonderfully broken and they’re driving Erik crazy. He drags his nails over Charles’ sides and reaches down to cup and squeeze his balls. Erik wants his mouth there as well; wants his teeth on Charles’ hipbones, wants to bite down on his nipples and suck those noises Charles is making from his lips, suck on his tongue. Wants it all, all at the same time and all of it right now, but most of all he wants Charles to come in his mouth so that Erik can swallow a part of him down and keep him.

So he uses lips and teeth and tongue to drive Charles as wild as he’s feeling himself. Nips along the length of him and tongues his slit and brings his hand in to touch every inch of cock that’s not currently in his mouth. And when he feels Charles stiffen and hears him making the tiny gulping _‘oh oh oh’_ sound that is always the precursor to his orgasm Erik sucks him in all the way again and swallows and swallows as his mouth is filled with the salty, alkali taste of the sea.

Then he surges up to share Charles’ taste with him; licking into his mouth and rutting against him frantically, his own erection aching and incapable of being ignored any longer. Charles kisses him back just as urgently and slips his hand down to grasp and stroke Erik’s cock, his voice loud and eager in Erik’s mind.

 _‘Come on, Erik, come on – come for me, let go, let go on me, cover me with it, Erik, I want you to, I want you-’_ and Erik gasps into Charles’ mouth and throws his head back and coats his belly with thick stripes of white; shakes and trembles through it as Charles keeps his hand moving all the while.

He’s still panting like he’s been racing when Charles gives him one last, shaky squeeze and reaches up with his clean hand to pull on the back of Erik’s neck till their foreheads rest against each other and they can stay there quiet for a moment, just breathing the same pocket of air and relaxing down.

Then – “Hey, Char- _OH JESUS **CHRIST**!!_ ”

Erik freezes. Charles freezes. After a long, long moment Raven says in a strained voice from behind them “Well, I _was_ going to eat but I think I’ve just lost my appetite. Please, for the love of god, clean off that counter before any more meals get prepared in here and you so owe me for my upcoming years of therapy, Charles Xavier.”

The door bangs shut and Erik starts laughing helplessly into Charles’ chest. “Erik. _Erik_ … It’s not funny, damn it! I think we’ve just permanently traumatised my sister!” He adds with a wail “And she didn’t even get any breakfast!”

Erik reaches up, still laughing, and drags Charles down for kiss, cutting off his protests. And then – he knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help it – he pulls away to say, very seriously, “Because it _is_ the most important meal of the day…”

He’s not surprised at all when Charles smacks him on the head.


End file.
